It's Deano the insane Winchester
by 6Darkest6Angel6
Summary: Written for a prompt. The brothers are at Bobbys to celebrate Christmas, but Dean's injured from their previous hunt & on pain medication, which makes him weird, and for some bizarre reason he thinks Bobby's Santa and Sam's a big Elf. Hurt/Loopy/Sick!Dean
1. Chapter 1

**IT'S DEANO THE INSANE WINCHESTER.**

**Written for a prompt the Winter/Holiday themed Dean-focused h/c comment-fic meme.  
>PROMPT-Dean's badly injured from their previous hunt, and on pain medication. They're at Bobby's to celebrate Christmas. Dean's weird on meds, and for some bizarre reason thinks Bobby is Santa (because of hat and beard) and Sam's a big elf.<strong>

**CHAPTER ONE  
><strong>

It was two days before Christmas, and the brothers were at Bobby's to celebrate, and to let Dean rest from the injuries he had gotten on their last hunt the day before.

The older sibling had nearly been beat to death by two demons, and ended up with one black eye, and badly bruised torso, three broken ribs, broken wrist, and dislocated shoulder. He had been discharged, and brought back to Bobby's just a couple of hours ago, and was still high on the painkillers, and driving Sam and Bobby mad.

Sam looked over at Dean, who was laid on the couch beside him, and waving his hand in-front of his face with an amazed expression. He looked over at Bobby who was in his chair, and saw the older man looking at Dean fondly.

The older and younger men smiled at each other, before turning to their papers.

"WOW!" Dean suddenly yelled, scaring Bobby and Sam half to death.

"What?"

"Look look look," he said, holding his left hand up, staring at it with an awed expression.

"What?" Sam repeated, not understanding what Dean was talking about.

"Look, my hand has five fingers."

Sam slowly turned his head to look at Bobby, who was staring at him with a similar look.

"Er... That's really fascinating, Dean," said Bobby, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah. Good for you."

Dean blinked and looked confused for a few seconds, before he gave them a goofy, stoned-out-of-his-mind smile. "Look. Isn't it cool? Take a picture, take a picture," he said, shaking Sam's arm frantically.

"What of?"

"My hand."

Sam's eyebrows shot up, and he lifted his hand to cover the smile that was trying to form.

"Why the hell would we take a picture of yer hand?" Bobby asked him.

"B-Because... because it's got five fingers on it... Five," he told them with huge glazed eyes.

"Congratulations. We've all got five fingers."

Dean's bottom lip poked out, and his eyebrows drew together, making him look like a confused toddler. The confused expression cleared after a minute, and his hand fell back onto his knee, before he leaned a little closer to Sam. "I don't like sprouts," he whispered as if it was a secret.

"Did I just black out for a minute or something?" asked a lost Sam.

"I don't think so," Bobby told him, looking just as confused.

"Okay... Good."

* * *

><p>Awhile later, Sam came in from the kitchen, frowning. "Bobby, have you moved the turkey?"<p>

"No. Why?"

"I can't find it. It's not where I left it," said Sam, before kneeling in-front of the couch, so he was face to face with his brother. "Dean, where's the turkey?"

"W-What turkey?"

"The turkey we're having for Christmas dinner."

"Oh." Dean looked confused for a minute, before his face lit up, and he started clapping happily. "Ooooh. I buried it."

Sam blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"What the hell did ya bury the frigging turkey for, ya idjit?"

"Actually, a better question is how he buried it since he's got broken bones and he's crazy. Dean, why did you bury the turkey?"

Dean waved them closer as if to tell them a secret. When the two leaned forward, he whispered, "He was dead."

"Ugh... I guess I'll have to go shopping," said Sam, slapping his hand over his face.

"Can I come?" asked Dean, bouncing on the couch like a child.

"No. You're injured... and insane. You're staying here with Bobby."

"Why do I have to look after him?"

"Well, do you want him loose on the public?"

"Are ya kidding? He'll end up terrorizing the neighbourhood."

"Exactly," said Sam, standing up to check if he had his wallet and the car keys. "Good luck. Don't let him burn the house down or bury anything else."

"If he starts acting up again, I'll be burying him," said Bobby, nodding over at Dean, who was staring up at the light bulb.

Sam sighed, and looked over at Dean. "Hey deranged Dean, do you want anything from the store?"

"I love my car," Dean whispered, wide eyes still staring at the ceiling.

"Er... She loves you too Dean," Sam told his brother, patting his shoulder very gently. "Do you need anything from the store?"

"My car is black, and shiny... like a light bulb."

"Okay... I think I'm gonna stop talking, and go to the store," Sam told Bobby, grabbing his jacket. "Call me if he gets any weirder or if he needs anything."

"Sam, if I had to call ya every time he was weird, we'd never be off the phone."

Sam laughed, and headed to the front door. "I'll be back soon."

When Sam left them alone, Dean looked away from whatever was so fascinating, and looked over at Bobby.

"What?" asked Bobby with a shrug.

Instead of saying anything, Dean grinned dopily and waved.

A tiny smile curled up the corners of Bobby's mouth and he waved back, hoping Sam hurried up because Dean was freaking him out.

Ten minutes was spent in silence as Bobby read the newspaper. He jerked in surprise when the paper was ripped out of his hand, and a 160 pound man suddenly dropped onto his knee.

"SANTA!" Dean yelled excitedly, throwing his arms around a bewildered Bobby.

"What the hell?" he said, carefully wrapping his arms around the injured hunter, wondering what the hell just happened.

Dean grinned, and snuggled against Bobby's chest. "I've been a good boy."

"Have ya? Er... I bet yer gonna get loads of presents," said Bobby, humouring him as he rubbed soothing circles on Dean's back.

Dean looked up at Bobby with a sad expression. "Some nasty big meanies made me hurt. I got boo-boos. Look," he said, holding up his arm, so Bobby could see the cast on his wrist, nearly whacking him in the nose.

Bobby gently grabbed the injured hand, and held it in his free hand to save himself from a broken nose. "They're naughty, aren't they?"

"I save people... and my cars pretty." Dean frowned in confusion, and leaned closer to whisper, "I think I'm Batman. Sssssshhhh."

Bobby cleared his throat, trying not to laugh. "Don't worry. Yer secret is safe with me."

Dean grinned happily, and laid his head on Bobby's shoulder. "It's snowing outside."

"Is it? Wow."

"Yeah. I saw loads of evil snowmen... they made me better," Dean whispered to him, nodding with his huge eyes. "T-They had stabby thingys that made me feel weird... I don't like flying."

Bobby shook his head in amusement, knowing the 'snowmen' were actually the doctors wearing white coats. He looked at his watch, wondering how much longer Sam was going to be.

"I want a rocket launcher," Dean suddenly announced.

"Why?"

"To shoot things. You shoot them... and they go boom," Dean told him, clapping his hands together, making a shooting pain travel up his arm. "Ow."

"I'll try and get ya one, okay?"

"Kay. Can you get pie too? Sammy always forgets pie," Dean whispered, his bottom lip poking out again, chin quivering and tears glistening in his eyes.

"What's wrong? Are ya alright?" asked a worried Bobby.

"I want some pie," he cried, his eyes going round and sad, making him look so cute and innocent, like a four year old.

Bobby's heart melted at the look. "I'll buy ya a piece later, okay?"

"Thank you Santa. Sammy's my brother."

"Is he?" asked Bobby, checking his watch again, trying to ignore the fact that he was holding Dean on his knee like he was a child.

"Yeah. He's this big," Dean told Bobby, holding his hand up high. "He's got holes in his face... You should bring him some band-aids for them."

"They're called dimples, not holes."

Dean blinked up at Bobby slowly, not understanding what he was talking about. "I've got dots... I think they talk to me."

"Yer freckles talk to ya?"

"Yeah, those. If I join them with pen... They spell things."

"Riiiiight," said Bobby with a nod, pretending he believed every word.

"I've got two dads, you know. It's this many," he said, holding up four fingers. "B-But uncle Bobby's not my dad... but he is my dad."

A soft smile crossed Bobby's face, as he stroked his fingers through Dean's un-gelled hair. "I bet he loves ya too."

"He's got a beard," he whispered in Bobby's ear, making him laugh.

Dean laughed happily. "I made Santa laugh," he said, snuggling against Bobby again.

* * *

><p>When Sam finally came back, it was to see his brother sitting on Bobby's knee, grinning like a manic clown, hugging the older man tightly. "What the hell is wrong with him?"<p>

"I have no idea. He just started acting like a complete moron."

"Ooooh." Dean's head shot up, and he looked up at Sam. "Is that your Elf?" he asked, pointing at Sam, his mouth open in awe.

"Er..." He looked over at Bobby, who nodded minutely. "Yeah. I'm an Elf."

"You're a big Elf... What's your name?"

"Sam," he told him, lips twitching as he tried his best not to smile.

"My brother's called Sam." He waved him closer. "I'll tell you a secret... but you can't tell Sammy."

Sam knelt in-front of Bobby's chair. "Okay... I won't tell him."

Dean nodded, and leaned over as far as his injured body would allow, to whisper, "Santa's gonna get me some pie... and a biiiiiiig rocket launcher."

"Is he? Oh wow," said Sam, raising his eyebrows at Bobby.

The dopey grin returned, and Dean laid his head back on Bobby's shoulder, and started singing '_jingle bells.'_

* * *

><p>Later, Sam walked into the room with some water to see Dean standing in-front of the Christmas tree with a fascinated expression. "Dean, I've brought you the painkillers the doctor gave you."<p>

Dean didn't answer, he just continued staring at the tree.

"Dean?" Sam placed the pills and water on the table, and walked over to put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Are you alright?" He stood there for several minutes, waiting for him to acknowledge his presence, but clearly, Dean was too interested in the flashing lights. "Dean?"

"Look. Pretty," whispered Dean, pointing at the tree with the hand not cradling his injured ribs. He finally turned to Sam and gave him a happy grin.

"Yeah. They're great Dean. Come and sit down, you need to get some rest."

"I'm counting the stars. There's hundreds and millions of them," he told him, before turning back to the tree.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "Dean, that's a Christmas tree. Come on, lay back down" he said, before turning away to the couch to arrange the blankets, so he didn't see Dean reach up to touch the angel, or the tree start to wobble.

_THUD! _"OW!"

Sam span around to see Dean on the floor with the tree on top of him. "DEAN!" he yelled, kneeling beside his brother, and shoving the tree to the side. "Oh my god. Are you okay?"

Dean grimaced in agony, rubbing his bandaged ribs with the hand not encased in plaster. "Owwwwww. I've just been attacked by a Christmas tree," he whined, eyes scrunching closed.

"Stay still for a minute okay?" asked Sam, fingers running through Dean's soft hair. He turned to the kitchen and yelled, "BOBBY!"

Several seconds later, Bobby came to stand at the door with a tea towel in his hand. "Wh..." He blinked in surprise when he saw Dean on the floor, moaning in pain. "Is he alright? What happened?" he asked, rushing over to kneel beside Sam.

"The tree fell on him. I need your help to get him to the couch, I don't want to hurt him."

Bobby nodded, and stood the tree back up, before taking hold of Dean's legs. "Ready?"

Sam gently placed his hands under Dean's arms and nodded. "After three. One, two, three. Now," he said, standing up.

"OW! SONOFA-" cried Dean, head falling back against Sam's chest.

"Sorry Sorry Sorry," said Sam, before they gently laid Dean on the couch. He reached over for the pills and water, then placed his hand under Dean's head and lifted slightly, to help him take them.

After swallowing the pills with a sip of water, Dean looked over at Bobby, and his face lit up with joy. "Santa's back."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Hey son."

"The tree is a stupid big meanie," he whispered sadly, laying his hand against his bad ribs. "It tried to kill me."

"It's okay," soothed Sam, stroking Dean's arm. "You'll be better soon."

"How soon? Five minutes?"

"Er... A bit longer than that."

"Ten minutes?" asked Dean, his eyes going round and sad.

"N-" Sam broke off when tears welled up in Dean's green eyes, and his bottom lip poked out. "Sure. In ten minutes, your broken bones will heal and get better. Get some sleep, I bet you'll feel a bit better when you wake up."

Instead of sleeping, Dean held his injured hand up. "Look what I've found."

Sam stared at the hand, then looked back at Dean with raised eyebrows. "It's your hand."

"Yeah. It's got five fingers on it too." He held up his other hand and wiggled his fingers. "T-That means I've got ten."

"Wow. Ten fingers? That's... amazing."

Dean grinned, and turned to Bobby, holding his hands up. "S-Santa... Santa, look."

"Well done," said Bobby with a soft smile, acting like having ten fingers was a big accomplishment.

Dean laughed in delight, and tried to point at his nose. "R-Rudolph has a red nose," he said, accidentally poking himself in the eye. "Ouch."

Sam grabbed the hand, and held it in his own. "We don't want to add blindness to your list of injuries," he said, stroking the back of Dean's hand.

"I'm..." Dean trailed off as a big yawn interrupted him. "I'm sleepy."

"Get some sleep then, stubborn ass."

"Santa's not supposed to swear," said Dean, rubbing his eyes. "Are you going flying?"

"Not right now, no."

"But it's Christmas."

"Not for another two days... I'm going flying tomorrow night."

Dean waved him closer. "I don't like flying," he whispered confidentially.

"I know. Ya told me that earlier. Get some sleep, or I won't bring ya any pie or the rocket launcher."

"Kay." Dean shifted slightly, and closed his eyes.

"Sleep tight, big brother."

**TBC **


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**This was supposed to be a two-shot, but since I keep adding to it, this is now a lot longer than it originally was, so I decided to split the 2nd part up, and put this up a week before Christmas, and part 3 up on Christmas day.  
><strong>

**More crazy/hurt!Dean.  
><strong>

A few hours later, Bobby had gone out to get the pie he had promised Dean, so Sam was left to look after his mad brother.

Dean was resting on the couch, with his feet laid on Sam's lap. "Do you think Jessica Rabbit is hot?" he asked suddenly, staring up at the ceiling with glazed eyes.

Sam frowned, and turned to stare at his brother. "What?"

"Jessica Rabbit. She's gotta be the hottest cartoon. She's... wow."

Sam looked over at the TV, and back at Dean, wondering what the Simpsons had to do with Jessica Rabbit. "What are you going on about?"

"I was thinking about hot cartoon chicks and I think she's the hottest one."

"Okay. That's... weird."

Dean lowered his head, and grinned at Sam. "Thanks."

Sam laughed, and turned back to the screen where Sideshow Bob was once again trying to kill Bart.

"Do bananas really wear pajamas?" was the next random question.

"That's a cartoon, Dean."

"Oh. When is Santa coming back?"

"He'll be back soon."

"I miss him," he said, big round eyes watering.

"I know, but... er... He's gone out to get you some pie, remember?"

A wide grin crossed Dean's bruised face. "I like pie. I need a wee-wee," he announced, sitting up very slowly. He raised his hand to take the covers off, and his face lit up when he wiggled his fingers. "Oooooh."

Sam's eyebrows shot up as he watched Dean stare at his hand in fascination.

"Five fingers," he told Sam with a delighted grin. "Can you take a picture now, Mr Elf?"

Sam reached over for his phone and took a picture of his hand, before gently lowering Dean's legs, and helping him sit up. "Come on."

Dean started trying to bat Sam's hands away, a pout forming on his lips. "I can do it," he said, standing up shakily.

"Are you gonna be alright? Or do you want me to go with you?" asked Sam, biting his lip nervously. "I'll come with you."

Before Dean had a chance to say anything, Sam wrapped his arm around his shoulders, and started leading him towards the stairs.

Dean wrapped his good arm protectively around his broken ribs, and took the first step up. Each step sent a shooting pain through his broken body, making him cry out, and Sam wince at his brother's pain.

"Are you okay? Do you want to rest for a minute?"

"No," Dean whispered, groaning in pain when he bumped against the wall. The pain in his body felt as if his ribs had broken apart, and the sharp edges were stabbing him on the inside. He was in a lot of pain before, but it was even worse since the tree decided to attack him.

When they finally got to the top of the stairs, sweat was pouring down Dean's face, and he was as white as a sheet. He started taking deep breaths, trying to control the pain, but every exhale sent more pain shooting through his body.

"We'll rest here for a minute," said Sam quietly, worrying that Dean was going to pass out on him.

When Dean was ready, they slowly made it to the bathroom door. Sam looked over at his brother, unsure of what to do. "Er... I'll be downstairs. Shout me when you're done. Be careful," he said, turning to go back downstairs. He waited until Dean shuffled into the bathroom, before going down.

A couple of minutes later, Dean opened the bathroom door, and headed for the bedroom instead of shouting his brother. He needed to get something; he had a job to do.

Sam was washing the dishes in the kitchen, so he didn't notice Dean slowly making his way downstairs, carrying his gun in his good hand.

_'BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!'_

"What the-" Sam dropped the plate on the floor, and span around at hearing the gunshots. Running to the door, he saw his brother swaying in-front of the Christmas tree, which was on the floor in a mess of broken branches, shredded tinsel and smashed baubles.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" asked Sam, rushing forward to take the gun out of Dean's hand, before he did any more damage. "Have you lost your mind?"

Dean blinked up at his brother. "I killed him."

"I can see that, you lunatic," he said, hiding the gun so Dean didn't decide to kill anything else. He was glad he had unplugged the lights earlier, otherwise the house would have probably gone up in flames.

"Come on." Sam gently took Dean's arm to lead him back to the couch. "Right, you're grounded. You're staying there until I say it's time for bed."

Dean scowled grumpily, but laid down against the pillows. "He attacked me first."

"Of course it did," said Sam, covering him up with the blankets. He looked back at the tree, and shook his head. It looked like he had to go shopping yet again tomorrow.

Sam sat down, and picked up the remote to change the channel. He stopped on a western for Dean when Bobby came back in, carrying two bags.

The older man froze when he saw the fallen tree. "What the holy hell happened?"

"Dean lost his marbles," Sam told him.

"I know that... What happened?"

"Dean declared war, and killed the tree."

Bobby shook his head. "He's completely lost it this time... First he buries the turkey, and thinks I'm frigging Santa... now he's shooting Christmas trees," he muttered, going into the kitchen to get the dustpan and brush to clean up.

* * *

><p>As Bobby cleaned the remains of the tree, Sam went to make some coffee, so none of them were watching Dean as he grabbed a pen and a shiny glass bauble that had rolled over to the couch when he destroyed the tree.<p>

When Sam came in to check on his brother, it was to see him drawing on his face, using the bauble as a mirror. "Dean, what are you doing now?" he asked, taking the bauble and pen off him. "You're not three years old anymore."

"They're talking to me again," Dean told him, pointing at his face. "What does it say?"

Sam looked at the lines, and saw it spelled a backwards 'N' and 'I', but he wasn't going to tell him that, otherwise he would probably try and finish the word off. "It says 'Dean is a moron, and completely out of his mind'."

Dean frowned in confusion, and tried to grab the bauble again. "It does?"

"Enough of playing join the dots. They're just freckles," said Sam, holding them out of his reach. He turned to Bobby, who was taking the wrecked tree outside. "Make sure he doesn't try and draw on himself again. I don't want him poking himself in the eye with the pen and blinding himself."

Bobby nodded, and handed Sam one of the bags. "The loony's pie. Go put it on a plate for him."

"Okay." Sam took the bag, and turned back to Dean, who was watching the movie on TV. "Are you gonna be good?"

"John Wayne's a cowboy," was the random response.

"Er... Great," said a confused Sam, going into the kitchen.

Bobby knelt in-front of the couch, and took his handkerchief from his pocket, and dipped it in the glass of water on the table. "Stay there," he said, wiping the wet cloth over Dean's nose.

"What are you doing?" Dean mumbled, trying to get away.

"I'm cleaning yer face, idjit," he told him, rubbing the pen from the freckled cheek.

"Told you they talk to me."

"Of course they do."

Dean blinked up at the older man, and a happy smile crossed his face. "Hiya Santa."

Bobby sighed, and ran the cloth over Dean's nose. "Hey kid."

"There's an angel on the table... It's being rude," Dean whispered, grabbing Bobby's wrist.

"Sure," said Bobby, turning to the table, to see the angel that used to sit at the top of the tree. He shook his head, and continued getting rid of the two letters.

I and N. One word came to mind- Insane.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, Dean was once again sitting on Bobby's knee, slowly eating the small piece of pie with the fork held in his left hand.<p>

Bobby was watching, trying not to laugh when Dean kept missing his mouth, and getting pie in his eye or on his nose. "Want some help?"

"Nooooo. I can do it," Dean told him, jabbing himself in the chin. He finally managed to get it in his mouth, and turned to Bobby with a triumphant grin. "See?"

Bobby chuckled, and shook his head fondly. He silently watched Dean eat the rest of his pie, then drop the fork on the plate.

Dean smiled shyly as he laid his head on Bobby's shoulder, swinging his legs in a childlike way. "Santa?"

"What?"

"Do your Reindeers fly up to heaven?"

"Er... Why?"

"Mommy lives up there," he whispered, looking up at the ceiling. His big eyes watered slightly, and his bottom lip started trembling.

Bobby swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, and tightened his hold slightly. "Ya better not start crying on me, ya big girl," he teased.

Dean turned to Bobby, and the smile returned. "I'm brave. I killed a Christmas tree." There was a thump outside when a clump of snow fell from the roof and hit the window ledge, making Dean almost jump out of his skin, and cling to Bobby. He turned to the window, and said, "There's a dancing penguin outside."

Sam cleared his throat, and stood up from the couch. "I'm gonna go finish making the coffee," he said, struggling not to laugh.

"Can I have coffee?"

"There's no way in hell I'm giving you caffeine. You're mad enough as it is."

Dean scowled, and looked back at Bobby. "Your Elf should be called Mr Jingles... he has bells on his shoes."

Bobby nodded, pretending he agreed with everything Dean was saying.

"I saw a squirrel yesterday," Dean told Bobby, his nose scrunching up adorably. "Sammy wouldn't let me blow its brains out."

"Why would ya wanna kill a squirrel?" asked an amused Bobby.

"They're evil... They're rats with fluffy smushy doodly things."

"I think ya mean their tails."

"Yeah. They dress up in disguise and spy on me." Dean grabbed Bobby's shirt to whisper in his ear, "They try to eat my nuts."

Bobby bit his lip to stop the laughter that threatened to erupt. "Do they?"

"Can you bring me a Tiger, Santa? A right big massive one? It could eat them for me. And a Giraffe."

"A Tiger and a giraffe?"

"Yeah... and a Clown. I want a balloon... They... they all float," he quoted.

"Okay. So ya want a rocket launcher, tiger, giraffe and a clown for Christmas?"

"YEAH! I can make Sammy do what I want. He's scared." His eyelids started fluttering, and he rubbed his eyes sleepily, before muttering, "And get Sammy some band-aids for his face... and a hairbrush."

Bobby chuckled, and looked down at Dean again, to see that his eyelids were drooping. He adjusted his hold on Dean, who snuggled close against him.

"I don't like cabbage," he mumbled, body going limp in Bobby's arms.

Bobby's whole expression softened when he saw Dean was fast asleep with his head resting against his shoulder, and his mouth open so he was drooling on his neck. "Aw." He wrapped his arms tighter around Dean, before lowering his head slightly to watch him sleep. He hadn't held Dean like this since he was a little kid, and if anybody said anything about it, then Bobby would be getting the shotgun out.

Sam came back into the room, and smiled when he saw his big brother had fallen asleep in Bobby's arms. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah. Get the blanket, he's cold," Bobby told him, not looking away from Dean's pale freckled face.

Sam placed the cups on the table, and grabbed the blankets to cover Dean's shivering form up. "Do you want me to lay him on the couch?"

"No, I've got him," he answered, ruffling Dean's soft hair.

**TBC**

**Hope you like**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

That night in bed, Dean was woken up by something hitting the glass. He opened his eyes, and heard the same noise again.

"Baby?" he asked, throwing the covers off, and sitting up. Slowly climbing out of bed, he staggered over to the window.

Opening the curtain slightly, he looked outside to see it was snowing heavily, and his beloved car had turned from black to white with snow. "Oh no." He grabbed the covers from his bed, and slowly made his way out of the bedroom.

"Don't worry baby, I'll save you."

Walking downstairs and unlocking the front door, Dean shivered uncontrollably when the snow met his bandaged upper body. "Hiya baby," he said, going over to his car to sweep the snow off, before covering her up with the huge blankets.

"Ow." Ignoring the pain and concentrating on the task of warming his car up, Dean managed to cover the whole car, protecting her from the cold and snow. "T-T-Th-There you g-g-g-go," he said, wrapping his arms around his shivering body.

"Sssshhhhh. D-D-D-Don't c-cry b-b-baby." He leaned forward and laid his cheek against the roof, his good hand stroking the covered surface as he gave her a one armed hug. "Yo-You're w-w-warm now. L-L-Love y-y-y-you."

A violent shiver ran through Dean's body, which he thought was his car shaking in fear. "It's o-o-o-okay. I-I-I'll sa-save y-y-y-you f-from the a-a-a-army o-of evil sn-snowmen... a-a-and d-d-dancing p-p-penguins." He closed his eyes, and was almost asleep when he heard a voice behind him.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" asked Sam, running outside when he saw his brother in just his boxers and bandages, standing out in the middle of a snowstorm. "Are you crazy?"

Dean looked up at him with huge glazed eyes, the painkillers obviously still running through his system. "Sh-She was c-cold... a-a-and s-s-s-snowy," he whispered weakly, shivering uncontrollably.

Sam rolled his eyes, and wrapped his arms around him, trying to warm the icicle that was his big brother. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"M-M-M-My j-j-j-job... s-s-save p-p-p-people."

"Yeah. People, not cars. She's made of metal, she can survive cold weather." He was glad he woke up to check on Dean, otherwise they would have woken up with a Dean shaped snowman in the middle of the yard the next morning. "Do you want to freeze to death?"

"J-J-J-Jack di-did," Dean muttered against Sam's shoulder.

"He also went insane and tried to kill his family with an axe," he said, rubbing his hand up and down Dean's back. "Come on. I'll make some hot chocolate to warm you up."

"C-C-C-Can baby co-come?" Dean managed through his chattering teeth, and blue lips.

Sam slowly started leading his brother to the house, holding him to his chest to protect him from the cold. "Dean, I'm not driving the car into the house," he said, at the same time thinking it was a good job he hid the keys earlier, or Dean would have probably tried to drive the car upstairs.

"W-W-Why?"

"Because she's a car."

"B-B-B-But s-s-she's c-c-cold a-a-a-and s-s-scared."

"Of course she is, Dean. Come on."

Dean started struggling against Sam, and turned back to the Impala. "S-S-S-Save her... E-E-Evil s-s-s-snowmen."

"Dean, there are no snowmen, evil or otherwise."

"T-T-T-They m-made m-m-m-me f-f-fly... Ba-baby can't f-f-f-fly. F-F-F-Freezing."

"She's safe, I promise. She's all nice and warm... Come on," he said, tightening his grip, and nearly dragging him into the house.

"G-G-GOODNIGHT B-B-BABY! L-L-LOVE Y-YOU!" Dean called over his shoulder as Sam closed the door.

"Shh. We don't want to wake Bobby up."

"K-K-Kay. I'll b-b-b-be vewy vewy qu-quiet," Dean whispered, and immediately tripped over his own feet, crashing into the wall, ending up sprawled on the floor. "OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

Sam rolled his eyes again. "Great job on that," he said, kneeling beside him, gently slipping his arm under Dean's shoulders to help him sit up. "Come on, you moron."

Dean gasped in pain, and whimpered, his eyes scrunched closed in pain. "I w-w-want Sammy."

"I am Sammy, you weirdo," he said, holding Dean in his arms as he laid across his lap.

"Nooooo. Y-You're the E-E-Elf."

Sam sighed in exasperation. "Fine. Close your eyes, and count to three... when you open them, Sammy will be here. Okay?" he said, shaking his long hair, so Dean could see his face properly.

"Kay." Dean closed his eyes, and counted to three. When he opened them, Sam was looking down at him with a worried expression. "Sammy... It hurts."

"What's all the noise about?" asked Bobby, coming down the stairs.

"The delusional psychopath thought the car was cold, so he went to warm her up, and nearly froze to death... then he tried to do a head-dive through the wall."

Bobby shook his head, and went to help Sam with his brother, who was almost in tears with the pain that seemed to engulf his entire body. "Come on son."

Dean nodded, and held his hand out to him. "Ooooooh. Dude, d-d-d-dude, duuuuuuuude. Look... m-my h-h-h-hand."

"Yeah. It's great," said Sam, reaching over to take his hand to help him sit up. "Will you stop getting excited about your frigging hand for a minute?"

Seeing Sam reach out, Dean snatched his hand back, and held it to his chest possessively, glaring at the other two as if they were going to take it away from him.

"Dean, we're not going to take your hand."

"Unless we chop it off, and use it as a decoration for the tree," added Bobby, smirking when Dean started pouting.

He started turning his hand around with a confused expression. "I-I-I-I th-think t-t-the smurfs b-b-bit m-me. M-M-My hand looks f-f-funny."

Sam looked at the hand, and saw his fingers were going blue. "I'm not surprised. You've been outside god knows how long," he said, gently grabbing Dean's hand, and placing his free arm under his back to help him up. He turned to Bobby, and whispered, "The next time he's out of his mind, remind me to stay up all night."

"Or we could just lock him in the panic room."

"No way. He'll end up killing himself trying to get out."

"W-Where's my b-b-baby?"

"She's outside. Where else is she gonna be, up the chimney?" said Bobby, wrapping his arm around the trembling shoulders.

"But s-s-squirrels... and e-e-evil snowmen," he muttered, being led to the couch by the other two men. "T-T-The d-d-dancing p-penguins."

"What's he blabbering on about now?" Bobby asked Sam as they laid Dean down.

"I have no idea," answered Sam, arranging the pillows behind him, before grabbing the blanket they kept over the back of the couch to cover his freezing brother up. "I'll go make him some hot chocolate."

Bobby nodded, and turned the fire on. "There we go," he said, kneeling in-front of the couch. "How are ya feeling?"

"H-H-Hurts," he mumbled, bringing the cover up to his chin, his body shivering violently.

"Sam, bring him some painkillers in," Bobby called over his shoulder, his hand gently running up and down Dean's body, trying to warm him up.

"Okay. I'll be back in a minute."

Dean whimpered, tears falling down his red cheeks.

"Shh. Yer gonna be alright, son," Bobby whispered, his free hand wiping the tears streaming down Dean's face.

A couple of minutes later, Sam came back into the room with the hot chocolate, water and painkillers. "Hold these for me," he said, handing them to Bobby. He eased Dean forward, and slipped in behind him, holding the freezing form against his chest.

"There ya go," said Bobby, holding the pills and water out first.

"Thanks." Sam took the offered items, and helped Dean take them. "Come on," he said, holding the glass of water to Dean's trembling blue lips. "Drink."

It took a couple of minutes, since Dean's teeth kept chattering against the glass, and the water kept spilling everywhere, but they finally managed to get him to drink some.

Giving the glass of water back to Bobby, Sam took the hot chocolate from him. "Let's get you warmed up," he whispered, holding the cup to Dean's mouth.

Dean's trembling hands came up from under the blankets and wrapped around the hot cup. He shuddered when the heat made his fingers tingle, and drank the hot liquid. "Mmmm." It was nice and hot and he savoured the heat as he swished it around in his mouth before swallowing.

Sam smiled, and watched him drink it. He jerked in surprise when a thick quilt was suddenly wrapped around them. Looking up, he saw Bobby tucking them in.

When Dean finished the hot chocolate, Sam placed the cup on the side table, and wrapped his arms around his brother. He could feel that Dean was still shuddering violently, so he started running his hands up and down his body, trying to help him warm up. He was glad Dean was out of it, otherwise he would be accusing Sam of being gay and feeling him up.

"W-W-Where's my b-b-baby," Dean asked again, huge eyes darting around the living room frantically.

Bobby sighed, took Sam's phone from the table, and walked outside. After taking a picture of the Impala, he brought the phone back in, and gave it to Dean. "She's there."

Dean looked at the picture of his car, a smile curling up his trembling lips. He kissed the screen, and held the phone to his chest. "M-My b-b-b-baby," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"Get some sleep," Sam whispered in his ear. "I've got you."

Dean mumbled something about flying elephants, and relaxed against Sam's chest, the phone with the picture of his car clutched tightly in one hand.

"What are we gonna do with him?" Bobby asked Sam, gesturing to the sleeping young man.

"I'm staying down here with him tonight," Sam told him, continuing to rub his hands up and down Dean's body. "To make sure he's alright."

"I'm going back up, yell if he gets worse or if he needs anything."

"Okay. Goodnight Bobby."

"Bert Ernie... gay," Dean muttered in his sleep, snuggling back against Sam.

The younger Winchester laughed, and tightened his grip on him. "Goodnight, you loony," he whispered, resting his cheek against Dean's dark blond hair, holding his cold, injured, insane brother in his arms.

* * *

><p><strong>**Christmas Day**<strong>

* * *

><p>A couple of days later, Dean was still in a lot of pain, and had developed a bad cold from standing outside in the snow two nights before, but at least he was no longer crazy.<p>

Sam and Bobby had to deal with a hurt, loopy, out of his mind Dean for a day and a half, now they had to deal with a hurt, sick Dean. Oh what joy.

The kitchen at Bobby's was filled with laughter as the little family settled around the table.

"I did not say that," said Dean grumpily as the other two men were teasing him about some of the things he did and said when he was insane.

"Yeah you did," said Sam, nodding at Bobby.

The other man nodded back, and stood from the table, then walked into the living room.

"Hetch_SHUH_! _Ish_choo! OW!" cried Dean, holding his ribs.

"Are you alright?" asked Sam worriedly, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Do I look alright?" he snapped, sniffling.

"Don't blame me, you're the one who went outside to cover your car up in the middle of a blizzard."

Dean scowled, and wiped his red nose on his sleeve.

Bobby came back in a minute later, wearing a Santa hat, carrying a balloon, and some teddies, which he placed in-front of Dean.

"There ya go. Since Sam screams like a big girl when he sees a clown..." he said, holding the string out.

"What the hell is that?" asked a confused Dean, taking the balloon.

"Just what ya asked for... A balloon, giraffe," he said, holding the teddy up, before picking another up. "And a tiger." He opened his jacket, and dropped a water pistol on the table, a smirk forming on his lips. "I couldn't get ya a rocket launcher. Sorry."

Dean blinked at the stuffed tiger and giraffe, and the balloon floating above his head, before turning to the men with a confused expression. "Er... What are you talking about?"

Sam cleared his throat, and turned to the oven. The up and down movements of his shoulders told the other two that he was laughing.

"Seriously... What the hell."

Bobby placed his elbow on the table, and rested his chin in his hand, trying to hide the smile that wanted to form. The look on Dean's face was priceless, he wished he brought the camera in. "Just what ya asked for."

"Why the hell would I want a giraffe?" he asked, picking the giraffe teddy up.

"I have no idea, but ya wanted a tiger to eat the rats disguised as squirrels... And a balloon, because they float."

Dean frowned, and looked back up at the balloon. "Isn't that from IT?"

"Yeah. And ya wanted a rocket launcher to shoot things... but there was no way I was going to get ya one, so yer stuck with that," said Bobby, pointing at the water pistol.

Sam burst out laughing, but tried covering it up with a cough. A couple of minutes later, he grabbed the pan to bring over to the table. "Sprouts?"

"Hell no. I hate sprouts," said Dean, letting the string go, so the balloon floated up to the ceiling.

"Dean, nobody likes sprouts."

"Why the hell are we having them then?"

Sam shrugged. "Because it's Christmas."

"Riiiiiight," said Dean, staring at his brother. "You're a freak, you know that?"

Sam smiled and turned to Bobby. "Sprouts?"

It was Bobby's turn to stare at Sam. "Put sprouts on my plate, and I'll be shoving them up yer nose."

"I'll take that as a no then," said Sam, placing the pan on the counter and joining the other two men.

Dean picked his fork up awkwardly in his left hand, but dropped it when a sudden sneezing fit caught him by surprise. "_HA_-etchsh! Heh-_ETCHSH_! _ISHSHOO_! KTCHSH! Sonofabitch."

"Whoa. Bless you."

"Screw you," Dean replied, wiping his nose again with his sleeve, before picking the fork back up.

"Merry Christmas boys."

"Merry Christmas," said Sam, stabbing a piece of turkey with his fork. "I'm surprised we managed to have a decent Christmas since Dean buried the turkey and shot the tree."

Dean looked confused and turned to the living room. "The tree is there. What are you on about?"

"That's a new tree. I had to go out and buy one yesterday after you declared war."

"What?" Dean looked from Sam to Bobby, not believing a word. "No I didn't."

"Ya also thought I was Santa and Sam was an Elf."

"And you kept getting excited about your hands having five fingers," Sam added, trying to keep a straight face.

Dean's eyebrows drew together as he tried to remember.

"Don't strain yourself. You might give yourself a concussion to add to your injuries."

"You're mean," he pouted, sniffling miserably.

Bobby and Sam laughed, and turned back to their dinners.

"Can you..." Dean sucked in a gulp of air, and rubbed his chest with his plastered hand when he felt a sharp pain. Whatever he was about to say next was lost in fit of coughing that sounded like he was trying to hack up a lung.

"I've got you," said a worried Sam, kneeling beside his chair, rubbing Dean's back, trying to soothe away the pain that must be wracking his body along with the cough.

Bobby watched helplessly as Sam tried to help his brother, but there wasn't anything they could do besides rub Dean's back and make soothing noises that he hoped would calm him down enough to control his breathing.

Several minutes later, the coughing fit ended, and Dean sat up straight again. "That hurt like hell," he croaked, cradling his broken ribs.

"Shall I get you some painkillers?"

"No. I'm fine," Dean told his brother, shaking his head.

"Are you sure?" asked Sam, placing his hand on Dean's forehead. "Do you want to go lay down? You don't look so good."

Dean moved his head away, and grabbed the water pistol to squirt Sam. "Stop mother henning me."

Sam blinked the water out of his eyes, and stood up. "Okay. But if you're not better in a few days, I'm taking you to the doctor," he said, sitting back in his chair. "God knows what you picked up out there in the frigging snow."

As they ate, the two men kept shooting worried glances at Dean to make sure he was okay. If Dean noticed the worried glances, he didn't say anything.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, covering the ground and turning everything a glistening white, except the Impala, which was still covered with the blankets her loving owner had put over her.

***The End***

**Hope you like.**


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